A Mistake Not Forgotten
by x0andraia0x
Summary: T.J. and Co. promise to make Randall pay for embarrassing Gretchen. They invent a great prank, unlike any other. But something goes horribly wrong. Randall dies! How will their lives change? R&R Please!Chapter 6 up(Gretchen's Scientific Story)
1. The Cause!

Chapter 1  
The Beginning  
  
A/N: Hey, this is a little fic I thought of. Since I have given up writing harry potter fics, because all the good ideas are taken! This is my first Recess fics, so I might make mistakes with the spelling of the school, people, etc. So I would appreciate it, if you would tell me my mistakes, so I can correct them. Well hope you like my first chapter, which is sort of boring! Please don't leave flames unless I deserve them.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recess characters, settings, etc. The only thing I own in this chapter is the plot!  
  
~**************~  
  
It was raining heavily on 3rd Street School one gloomy afternoon. This unpleasant downpour forced the unwilling students (and teachers) to stay inside. Most of the kids were rounded up in the 3rd Street School's Cafeteria, looking as though Christmas was cancelled. Some of the teachers even seemed to be discontent with this plan. The cafeteria was a decent, useful looking place. Over one of the entrances there was a metal platform. On the side opposite the windows there was the kitchen and serving area. The rest of the space was filled up with sturdy, wooden tables. Presently the different grades were organized into different spots around the cafeteria. The kindergartens near the west doors and the Grade 6's on the opposite side. (A/N: I'm not rightly sure which way the 2 doors face, so I'm saying it's east and west). Miss Finster, Miss Groeke, and Miss Lemon (A/N: Spelling?) were the 3 teachers that were watching the children at the lunch break. Miss Finster was an old lady with a hideous, yellow dress and temper unlike any other's. The only kid, that could get along with her was Randall, also known as the snitch. Miss Groeke was the middle-aged teacher of the Grade 4 class. Her view of life was very similar to that of a hippie. Full of flowers, peace, and good neighborly attitudes. Miss Lemon on the other hand was Mr. Prickly's (the principal) secretary. Her name suited her very well, because she was very much like a sour lemon. These 3 were patrolling the massive cafeteria with Miss Finster yelling, Miss Groeke smiling, and Miss Lemon ignoring.  
  
The six children, in which this story focuses on, were sitting in the Grade 4 area near the windows. These six kids were a legend among their fellow students on the playground. Miss Finster and her sidekick Randall who had a hunched back, still insisted that the six were deceiving brats. Nevertheless, the six were good, true friends: Vince, Gretchen, Gus, Mike, Spinelli, and their leader T.J. Vince was a black, athletic star who could run faster and kick farther in kickball than anyone on the playground. Gretchen was a redhead whose intelligence the FBI and others were always consulting. She was a tall, lanky and wore very large, round glasses. Gus was the newcomer to this group. He was short and dressed military style. Meanwhile, Mike had the soul of a poet and a love for sweets that resulted in a rather large body (A/N: I figure that is a little mean about the weight issue, so I will apologize to anyone who might have got offended). He had blonde hair and fair skin like an angel. Spinelli was the tomboy of the group and could cream anyone who got in her way. She had 2 pigtails on both sides of her dark hair covered by a ski cap, which went along with her unusual way of dressing. Finally T.J. a prankster prince, with a love for recess like any other kid. They were all looking out into the rain with either boredom or anger.  
  
"It's not fair!" raved Gus. "It's not fair! We were going to raid the Ashley's clubhouse, and now we can't even see it! WHY?"  
  
"No, I think you're wrong Gus, I think I can just see it," said Vince as he squinted into the foggy rain.  
  
"The visibility stands at 201.678m and the Ashley's clubhouse is about 200m away, so it is possible that you can see it. But my calculations state that the present weather should move onto Colorado (A/N: Does anyone know what state Recess takes place in?) in about 14 minutes, so then you should be able to see the clubhouse clearly," stated Gretchen as the others looked at her dumbfounded.  
  
"Whoa, this is so much fun!" joked Spinelli in a sarcastic voice. "We're talking about whether we can see their lousy clubhouse or not."  
  
"Yeah, that's their flag all right blowing in the wind," said T.J. jovially ignoring Spinelli, "Spinelli is right guys! This whomps!"  
  
"Well still, its not like we can go out there Teej," exclaimed Gus, "We're still in here! Here! In the cafeteria! Where Miss Finster will probably keep us until.. until.."  
  
"Till we perish," interrupted Mike as he and Gus went into hysterics.  
  
"Oh, god this is gonna make me sick," said Spinelli as she started making puking noises under the table.  
  
The whole table started laughing like maniacs. Spinelli started taking it further and has using her mashed potatoes as puke. Mike and Gus forgot their problems along with the rest and laughed even harder. Soon, the whole student body and the 3 teachers were looking at them curiously. Well excluding Miss Finster and Randall who were looking over there with hatred. Miss Finster resolved to do something about this disgusting outburst. She went over to her beloved Randall who was spying on some suspicious 3rd Graders.  
  
"Randall, get over here!" hissed Finster.  
  
Randall went over to Finster followed by taunts like 'snitch' and 'tattletale' from the younger kids. Also some of the older kids mocked 'get a life', 'UGLY' (from the Ashley's) and 'got a problem..Snitch'. Randall wished more then anything else that he was popular like T.J and his lousy friends. His only compensation was that he could get them back when he learnt a secret. Meanwhile, the table of the before mentioned six, were looking at Randall in distaste, then continued with their own affairs.  
  
"Shut it!" yelled Miss Finster as the whole cafeteria went silent then started whispering among themselves.  
  
"Thanks Miss Finster! What can I do for you today?" asked Randall eagerly.  
  
"Well I need you to do a little.. umm.. job for me, Randall, my boy," answered Finster.  
  
"What's the job?" questioned Randall with his familiar, malicious grin on his face.  
  
"Well, you heard T.J. and the rest of his pack laugh a little while ago, right?" said Finster in a suspenseful voice.  
  
"Yes," Randall replied.  
  
"Well, can you go over there, and find out what that disgraceful outburst was about. I would go myself, but they would never have told me. Plus I'm getting too old for the spy role," answered Finster.  
  
"My pleasure, Miss Finster, my pleasure," said Randall smirking as he left Miss Finster and set up his base behind a garbage can near the six that hid him fairly well from the school and T.J and the others. He took out his notebook and a pen and started his mission.  
  
"Oh Spinelli, that was outrageously hilarious," laughed Gretchen.  
  
"I must agree," said Mike, "It was a work of art."  
  
"One of my better ones. Oh wait watch this," exclaimed Spinelli as she added her watermelon drink to the mashed potatoes to make it look green. Following this she replayed her act as she had done before.  
  
The whole table burst out laughing once again. Randall was writing the affair furiously on his notepad. When the laughter died down Vince looked around the cafeteria and noticed something out of par.  
  
"Hey, where's Randall I don't see him anywhere?" wondered Vince aloud to his friends.  
  
"Probably hiding in the girl's room," retorted Spinelli that started a laughing fit again.  
  
"Or, he's phoning his mommy!" said Gus enthusiastically as he went into an exaggerated act of Randall phoning his Mom.  
  
In this moment, an unfortunate thing happened, that would start the beginning of the mistake. Gretchen was laughing so hard at the last joke that she let out a high-pitched snort. All of her friends just looked at her, then continued laughing, this time at the snort with Gretchen. Randall had heard it also and was laughing as well. But his laugh was more like the laughs that the evil people make on movies. He stood up and faced the group smirking.  
  
"Hey, listen up everyone. Gretchen just snorted! And she sounded like a pig!" yelled Randall as he gave T.J. an evil grin before running to Miss Finster.  
  
The whole school was now chanting "Pig-snorter! Pig-snorter!"  
  
"Randall is so going to pay!" muttered T.J. as the others agreed.  
  
~****************~  
  
A/N: Whoa, that was long! I didn't mean it to be that long. Please review, if you read it. I would appreciate it. 


	2. Death of an Unloved One!

Thanks to my two reviewers! THANKS! This is most likely going to be the most interesting chapter! Because the BIG MISTAKE happens now! Please read and review. I would appreciate it! Thanks! And now one to the story! I know I had 2 spelling mistakes in the last chapter of names. But I have or will correct them.  
  
Disclaimer: Disney's Recess: Created by Paul and Joe. I'm not Paul, I'm not Joe, and I'm most definitely not Walt Disney. You do the math! LOL!  
  
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"Is it ready yet Teej?" asked Spinelli. "I'm bored out of my skull here, waiting for you guys to finish!"  
  
"Almost Spenilli," answered T.J., "almost."  
  
"That's what you have been saying for 10 minutes," implored Spinelli.  
  
"Actually I think it has only been 8 minutes Spinell (A/N: Spelling?)," stated Gus in a hesitant voice as he looked up at Spinelli shamefully.  
  
"Why you little..," threatened Spinelli as she started massaging her fist and staring at Gus with a 'that-was-a-big-mistake' look. Her eyes were ablaze with the joy of battle and revenge.  
  
"Oh, my mistake! It has been 10 minutes," stammered Gus.  
  
"Spinelli, one must talk out their problems. Fighting solves nothing. Poor Gus did no more then state his opinion. This is how wars are started; another's opinion offends One. Now lets all be friends," said Mikey in a peaceful voice as he stepped in front of Gus, who looked out timidly at Mikey's side.  
  
"Whatever, whatever," Spinelli said hotly.  
  
"Quit it you two!" said Vince in an almost angry voice. "Gretch needs to figure out this extra sticky formula for 'Plan Booger'."  
  
"No, the extra dioxide did not increase the viscosity by 2%! Wait! Add a pinch of this.. and a tad of that!" muttered Gretchen as she was doing calculations and adding ingredients to a large bowl full of some slimy, green goo. "EUREKA! I got it. The viscosity of regular Dr. Conners Slime is now increased by 50%! Come here T.J., look at this."  
  
T.J. followed by the rest of the gang came over to 'Gretchen's lab' that she had in her room. The room was spotless, white. The room was covered with lengthy calculations, that almost could scare someone without an above average I.Q. Plus there was enough educational books to last one a lifetime. The object of display was Dr. Conner's Slime that was held in a large stainless steel bowl. Gretchen took a common twig and dipped it into the slime, and then she handed it to T.J.  
  
"Try to get this slime off, Teej!" said Gretchen triumphantly.  
  
T.J. tried and tried, but the stuff wouldn't come off. He managed to get a bit off, then handed it to Gus, who had the same results as T.J. After it had been passed all around. Gretchen took the twig and put a drop of a blue, neon liquid on it. The slime seemed to freeze up and all of a sudden small cracks could be seen on the goo. Finally the slime transformed into dust and crumbled onto the floor.  
  
"Awesome!" exclaimed Vince.  
  
"Tender!" said Spinelli and T.J together.  
  
"Amazing what a little work can do!" stated Mikey.  
  
"WOW! I can't believe it! It works!" yelled Gus.  
  
"Randall is going to pay!" resolved Gretchen with a malicious look on her intelligent face.  
  
"Tomorrow Plan Booger goes into action, ladies and gentlemen," said T.J. as his friends started agreeing with laughter and whoops of joy.  
  
~***************~  
  
T.J. and his gang were hiding in the cheese box (A/N: What do they call that thing?) on the playground the next day. They were going over their carefully planned operation, while Gretchen was holding onto a heavily greased Tupperware container, that most likely was holding Dr. Conner's Slime. All of them were staring at T.J. with eager looks in their eyes.  
  
"As you all well know, Randall made Gretch here the laughing stock of the playground. And I'm not going to allow my good friend to get laughed at and teased!" stated T.J. in a matter-of-fact tone, as the others agreed. "Gretchen is probably the best out of us all. She's the smartest and the most loyal friend any guy can ask for.. or gal. And she doesn't deserve to be made fun of, especially by Randall of all people. So I came up with this prank that beats all pranks, even the one I pulled on King Bob. Plan Booger; will stay in the memories of all the children of that ever attend this school. Now.." T.J. paused to get a sheet of paper from underneath his trademark cap and handed out some walkie-talkies to his friends, "here is the plan. We'll lure Randall underneath Old Rusty (A/N: that's what they call it right?), and as he gets to this appointed position, the trap will be sprung. Gretchen's slime will be dropped on him! Then we'll push him out where everyone can see him. Then Gretchen will put this blue stuff on him, while hanging off an overhead bar and the slime will be gone. And the best part is that he'll never know who did it. Now you all know your code names, and don't use real names over the walkie-talkies. Now, Gus you'll keep King Bob and as much kids as you can busy, so that he and others won't interfere. Gus when you see Randall coming out yell 'LOOK AT HIM' or something. Vince you lure Randall to us, make sure you run fast enough not to get caught and slow enough so he can keep up. Spinelli, you'll hit the 'Crying Kid' which should have Finster on her toes. I'll dump the slime on him. And Mike you'll push him into the open. And of course Gretchen you have that blue stuff on him when he comes near you. Does everyone understand?"  
  
"Tender!" said Spinelli.  
  
"You betcha T.J.!" said Gus enthusiastically.  
  
"Ya," shouted Vince as Gretchen joined in.  
  
"I believe, I should say yes," said Mikey.  
  
"I think, we, like so get it T.J." said a mysterious girlish voice followed by an in synced, "Scandalous!"  
  
"The Ashley's!" said Spinelli as she popped out of a hole and went directly to Ashley A, with a face that could scare the devil out of hell.  
  
"Calm down Spinelli," said T.J.  
  
"Yea, like, calm down Spinugly!" said Ashley B as the others giggled.  
  
"What did you guys, I mean girls hear," asked Vince.  
  
"I didn't hear anything, did you Ashley's hear anything?" asked Ashley A as the others shook their heads.  
  
"Sure you didn't!" said Spinelli in a sarcastic voice.  
  
"Nice talking to you ladies, but we must go and play kickball right now!" said T.J. with a false smile.  
  
When they were safely out of hearing range of the Ashley's, Spinelli exclaimed, "THIS WHOMPS! Now that the Ashley's know all about Plan Booger, they will probably go to Finster."  
  
"Exactly so we don't have much time. Time to put 'Plan Booger' in operation," said T.J. with a grin on his boyish face.  
  
After a brief pep talk, they started. Gus did an awful bit of ballerina, while kicking sand all over everyone including King Bob. Spinelli had punched a kid in the shoulder, which had Finster over there as fast as a wolf seeking it's prey.  
  
"Soaring Shark, Phase 1 is complete. Repeat. Phase 1 is complete. Both General Duck and I have done our duty to the country. Phase 1 is complete," said Spinelli over the walkie-talkie referring to Gus and her.  
  
"Well done Pouncing Flower and General Duck. Are you sure Crocidilus is busy?" asked T.J. over the communicator.  
  
"I'm sure, Soaring Shark!"  
  
"Good! Jet Ray Mongoose prepare to lure the target Spoilt Milk over the appointed position," said T.J. over the walkie-talkie to Vince.  
  
"Ok, Soaring Shark. Just keep the secret weapon off me when I get there," answered Vince.  
  
"Ok, Jet Ray Mongoose. Pouncing Flower keep an eye on Crocidilus (A/N Finster) and the Perfect Monkeys (A/N Ashley's)" said T.J to Spinelli as he turned over his shoulder to Gretchen and Mikey and said, "get ready!"  
  
"Ok!"  
  
"My pleasure!"  
  
"Ok Jet Ray Mongoose, you have your clearance to go," said T.J.  
  
Vince excited at the news put his plan into action. He had been following Randall for 5 minutes waiting for Phase 1 to be complete. Now it was his turn. Randall at the time being was peeking from behind a garbage can and spying on some Grade 1's who were playing marbles. Vince silently crept up on him and grabbed his notebook.  
  
"Hey give that back!" yelled Randall, "Or I'll tell Miss Finster."  
  
"Go ahead, but she won't be able to get here in time to save you little notebook from being ripped up," said a very cocky Vince.  
  
"What! You wouldn't dare!" said Randall who was starting to quiver in fear. He had a week's worth of secrets in there. There was a really nice one about Gretchen. Then it dawned on him; this was T.J.'s and his worthless friends' idea of revenge. 'Quite the pitiful one, too,' thought Randall.  
  
"You want it, you get it," taunted Vince.  
  
Randall did just that, and was running as fast as he could after Vince, but he was no match. Vince saw Old Rusty looming up in front of him and looked back, and sure enough there was Randall. He ran inside Old Rusty's bottom, where the secret weapon would be unleashed. Randall followed him in, and was standing right on the 'X' that T.J. had prepared.  
  
"I got you trapped now Vince! Give me my note.." yelled Randall as the slime was dumped on him. He unfortunately had his mouth open at the time when the extra sticky goo fell on him. The slime trickled down his throat and he started gagging. No one could hear him though underneath all of that slime.  
  
"Bullseye! Mikey you know what to do!" shouted T.J.  
  
"Yes I do know what to do," replied Mikey as he gave Randall a tremendous shove out into the playground.  
  
Randall was staggering a bit then he fell clutching his throat. Gretchen went over to him, since he couldn't make it over to her. She started pouring the antidote on and then the slime crumbled away. Not a moment to spare, she thought, because Gus was leading almost the whole playground, who were all laughing and pointing at Randall. Gretchen looked at Randall with a triumphant smile that turned to worry. He should have been getting up by now, or at least stirring. She crouched down at checked his pulse. There wasn't one. She suddenly realized that she forgot to give Randall something that would have allowed him to breathe. She was consumed with hatred she forgot to make her invention safe! As the crowd approached they looked at him in wonder, wondering why he didn't get up, then it dawned on them. Randall the Snitch was dead!  
  
"T.J." croaked out Gretchen as her friends approached, "he's dead!"  
  
"NOOO!" yelled T.J. as he and his friends were pulled away by Finster and some other people that just arrived. T.J. stared at the playground with a confused face. It was to be his last time!  
  
~****************~  
  
How did you like it? Be sure to leave a review. 


	3. The Effect

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this story, I've just been forgetting and I've been busy, you know the regular excuse. LOL! I deleted the author's note when I noticed how completely stupid it was. This chapter is about the trial, hope you like it. I have also noticed how my (A/N: is this right?) stuff in the chapters has disturbed the flow of the story. So I'll refrain from using them now. So any mistakes you notice about recess or in this chapter, the law things also, please say so in a review, if you leave it. I'll welcome it.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all, except the plot, and some of the people.  
  
* * *  
  
"Have a good night, kiddies," said the guard jovially as he led the gang to their temporary cell after the preliminary hearing that didn't go that well. The metal door shut in almost a mean fashion.  
  
Outside the birds were chirping, the sun was shining, but for 6 unfortunate kids everything seemed black and white that day. For they all had the fresh blood of Randall the snitch, whom everyone hated, on their hands. Not even in high school yet, well Gretchen had an above average I.Q. even for high school, but lets not go there. As I was saying, not even in high school and they already have murdered, now facing imprisonment, possibly for life. Even though no one mentioned it, they had all heard of the electric chair and other capital punishments, which weren't exactly like a breeze. They were all sitting in a simple cell with hard benches, moldy cots, a cold, nay, freezing floor, and the blankets and pillows that even the moths wouldn't touch. Even though they didn't know it, this was to be their last time all together for many, long years.  
  
Mikey Blumberg was sitting silently in a corner; his white T-shirt now stained with tears of remorse. He looked like a lost child. He was Mikey the Kind.. Mikey the Soulful.. Mikey the Gentle. But those days have passed, what seemed like eons ago. Now he was Mikey the Murderer..Mikey the Awful, and no poetry could relieve his sorrows.  
  
Vince LaSalle was sitting on one of the benches with Spenelli and Gus. He kept pinching himself, hoping it was all a dream. He just couldn't believe it. He was muttering something to himself as he kept pinching himself black and blue, literally.  
  
Gus Griswald who had been screaming and crying all day had finally quieted down. He was twitching like mad and kept looking at the cell with a hateful, yet longing stare.  
  
(Ashley) Spinelli was massaging her hand and punching the other hand's palm sometimes. She kept muttering about how that guard who lead them to their cells was going to get it, because she was missing her wrestling. The nerve of him!  
  
Gretchen Grundler who is the smartest kid on the playground (maybe the world) made a mistake..an awful mistake. She had let her personal hatred for Randall cloud her scientific judgement. She had killed him. She didn't care what the others said; it was her formula that killed Randall, plain and simple.  
  
TJ Detweiler was lying on his back on one of the few cots in the cell. His famous, red hat was now in the garbage because he had ripped in two earlier when he was in a violent rage of disbelief. He now looked almost alien without it. He was thinking of every possible way that he and his gang could get out this. Then it came to him, so he decided to break the silence at last.  
  
"Listen, I've been thinking," stammered T.J. as the others focused their attention at him. "It's my fault this all happened, it was my plan and everything. All you guys did was go with the plan that I, T.J. Detweiler made. So tomorrow just say it was me and maybe.."  
  
"I honor you taking the blame and all T.J, but it was my formula that killed him, not yours," interrupted Gretchen.  
  
"Oh don't you guys start with this sappy, self sacrifice crap, again," exclaimed Spinelli in a disgusted yet sarcastic tone.  
  
"Spinelli is right," said Vince almost miserably. "We all got ourselves into this mess. As much as I want to get out of this mess. I rather that we all go down together, or out together. Right everyone?"  
  
The others nodded in agreement to Vince's statement.  
  
Before another word could be spoken, the beefy guard that led them to their cell before showed up. "Get to sleep, you brats. Tomorrow is your big trial, you don't want be tired and stupid and saying stuff you shouldn't, when you're in that nifty little box. So stop talking you little fuckers and start sleeping, "yelled the guard and he finished with a scowl, but when he say all the different expressions the children gave him, he started wishing he hadn't swore and yelled.  
  
Fear, hate, laziness, and sad emotions got him all at once. Then he noticed that his scowl had been replaced with an apologetic expression and left before they could see it. When he saw his co-worker, Merv Lacey, who was patrolling the overnighters. He remarked, "I can't believe it Merv, I think I actually feel sorry for those junior murderers!"  
  
* * *  
  
The gang was quiet all night long after their encounter with the beefy guard, but none of them slept. The day had now dawned and they all realized, independently that today was the day that their future was decided once and for all.  
  
They were all to be taken in separately to the judge and his jury, so they couldn't be able to change their mind about something when they noted what one of their friends, family or witness' said. The first one that went was Gus, who screamed the whole way there. Next went Spinelli, with a 'you- can't-hurt-me-and-hands-off' look. Next went T.J; his session was the longest of all 6 of them. He later claimed it was because of his record. Gretchen followed then Vince. Lastly went the now silent Mike.  
  
It was noon, when the guard told them it was time. They followed him to the now familiar courtroom. The solid, oak beams and stained glass windows seemed to be mocking them because of the predicament. They glanced at the audience as the walked up to their seats up front. They all noted their parents seemed very worried and distressed, except Mr. Griswald who was still managing to hold his head high. They also saw Randall's parents sobbing a bit near the front. Beside them was Finster, who if anything was looking uglier than usual. She had on a horrid pink dress that the children smelled when they were only halfway to their seats, and her crying was rather messy. They also saw most of their classmates, the Ashley's, Lawson, King Bob, etc. Also to their surprise Miss Lemon was there with Principal Prickly.  
  
After all the formalities that happen at the beginning of any case in a courtroom, the honorable Judge Julie Cobb started to get to the interesting parts.  
  
"Now I'm sure you're all wondering what will happen to these 6 children who on April 03, 2003 at 10:30 am murdered Randall Weimes by suffocation by using some of Dr. Conner's slime in which Gretchen Grundler increased the viscosity. Honestly I see this as a prank gone wrong, but we will see. Now you all know of the private meetings I had with numerous people this morning. I will now quickly summarize what was said. Gus Griswald, Vince LaSalle, T.J. Detweiler, Gretchen Grundler..Spinelli, Michael Blumberg all told me it was a prank gone horribly wrong. The Ashley Club of 3rd street school confirmed this theory. The Ashley's had overheard the 6 suspects planning the prank that morning before school started. There was no mention of murder in the conversation," stated the Judge.  
  
"I never thought the Ashley's would back us up," Spinelli whispered to T.J. who immediately shushed her.  
  
"Others say that Randall's death wasn't an accident. I won't say who," continued the Judge, "but when you add up the number of witness' who claim it was an accident, against those that don't, it comes to the grand total of 15 vs. 17! Due to these numbers and the fact that it was well known that these 6 didn't get along with Randall Weimes, I am forced to send them to juvenile delinquent camps around the world for till they are 18 years of age. After that thay will be sent to actual jails, nearby, with the exception of Mikey Blumberg who will merely stay in his appointed jail till he turns 30. And after their release they will still be closely watched by lots of professionals like councilors, etc. The jurors feel and I agree with them, that they are to be placed in separate camps or prisons if you prefer. Gretchen Grundler will go to the Science Camp for Juvenile Delinquents in Brazil. Vince LaSalle is going to Juvenile Delinquent School pour Cuisine in France. Gus Griswald will be going to M.S.F.T.Y.H.C. or the Military School for the Young Hopeless Criminals right here in America. Mikey Blumberg will be sent to a Monastery in upper Russia. Spinelli will be sent to a nameless Juvenile Delinquent Camp in South Africa. And lastly T.J. Detweiler will be sent to an ordinary, Chinese Juvenile Delinquent Camp. We tried to pick camps or prisons that reflected your interest," said Julie Cobb when she finally, almost finished. "Lastly let's hope that Randall Weimes who touched many hearts may rest in peace. Court dismissed."  
  
The gang all looked shocked, and sad.  
  
"So we're being sent to camp..no matter what way I look at it, this whomps!" exclaimed T.J.  
  
"Well I guess this is goodbye," stammered Gus.  
  
"Just for 20 years," said Mikey. This was the first time he had spoke since the ordeal.  
  
"Ya, just for 20 years," agreed Vince with a dazed look on his face.  
  
"Well at least we have camps that match our interests," said Gretchen hoping to cheer them up a bit.  
  
"You forgot about Teej and me, Gretch," retorted Spinelli. "I'm in some nameless camp, and Teej here is in a ordinary prison."  
  
"Time to go, kids," said the numerous guards taking them to their new homes or cells.  
  
They quickly said their good-byes, much to their regret, When they were being escorted away from everything and everyone they held dear, they all wondered, "Will I ever see them again?"  
  
* * *  
  
This was much longer then I excepted, but oh well. Please review it. Constructive criticism in welcomed. And flames, well, I rather not get them but be honest. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know it sort of unbelievable, but hey the show this is based on kind of is too. LOL! Since I feel bad that I left all of those people who reviewed dangling with nothing more then an author's note for months, and since I really didn't thank them in the previous chapters. Here is a little thing for everyone that reviewed.  
  
goofy monkey child: Thanks for telling me of my mistakes in the first chapter, and I agree andraia is my fav character as well because that's what my name is. And yea I agree with you on the Randall thing.  
  
Capt. Cow I'm working on it. LOL!  
  
beckie13: Yea I know I kind of feel bad about killing him off, but hey it made a good fic.  
  
Plash Ricrem: Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, and thanks!  
  
puppy dog: Wow thanks, I don't know if it's that good. But there is a lot of T.J. and Spinelli romance fics out there, but some of them are still good.  
  
RKORadio: Is this chapter another Oh Dear! LOL! I think it is.  
  
Clintronic Waldrop: Awesome name, and thanks for your compliment.  
  
Mistress of Balmoral: I know, it's kind of bad. But he was the best one I could think of to kill off. Eeurgh! Thanks also.  
  
Hwoarangsquardie: Thanks for your compliment.  
  
alo: You left the longest review! Thank you! And you had a totally different opinion of everyone else that reviewed. You thought Randall deserved his death. LOL, thanks! And yes it would have been an interesting episode. Who knows they might make one. And no biggie if you are a noob and weird! HE HE!  
  
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Okay, I'm done now, hope you enjoyed it. 


	4. Vince's Story

A/N: Hey I have finally updated, sorry for the delay. Been too lazy lately, lol! Well this is the first of 6 chapters that will focus on one of the gang's life in prison. This is devoted to Vince, who went to the 'Juvenile Delinquent School pour Cuisine in France' And for my regular reviewers, who may have just skipped to this chapter there was a slight change to the last chapter which is important. That change was with the exception of Mikey, when all the other gang members turn 18 they will be transported to a nearby jail, because they can't be kept in a juvenile delinquent camp till they are 30, because age 18-30 are no longer juvenile ages. Thanks to Clintronic Waldrop for notifying me of my mistake in the first place.  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own the characters with the exception of Marie-Eve, Pierre, Albert, Frances, Stacey, and other fellow prisoners of Vince's, and some guards, chefs and councilors. I also own the plot. Actually I think the only thing that belongs to Recess creators here is Vince.  
  
* * *  
  
Rain was pounding down on the black car, and the tires skidded on the muddy road that led Vince LaSalle to his imprisonment. His plan that he had made on the way to Paris, France was to enjoy his freedom as long as possible, but that was impossible. The black car of an unknown make, with its bulletproof glass, and the tight seatbelts was impossible to think any cheery thoughts in. Plus the hideous, troll-like guards cramped in beside him weren't helping. Even the weather was against him today.  
  
"We're here," grunted the Neanderthal to his left etusiactically, as he opened his door and montioned Vince out.  
  
"Fine, fine," grunted Vince as he climbed out of the car. To his surprise, the goons that were his guards sped off in the car, down a road somewhere to his left the instant he was out of the car. He was all alone in the pouring rain. An insane idea jumped into his head at that moment. He could run away, no one was around at the moment. He could get a job in some Athletics' program in a nearby town.  
  
"Vince LaSalle, come in here out of the rain, or do I have to make you," shouted a female voice ahead of him. All of his hopes vanished with those words. He trudged on, ever onward to the unknown voice. He stepped into a massive, yet elegant porch covered with wicker chairs and a green table. The floor was waxed clean surprisingly, and the windows gleamed with their cleanness, even with the sun hiding. The lady had a classic hourglass figure. Her hair was dark brown and her skin was slightly dark, a trait that seemed to be around the French. He lips were pursed up as if the mere sight of the boy disgusted him.  
  
"My name is Marie-Eve Beauclair, Vince. I am your principal, headmistress, leader, jailer, or whatever you want to call it, of this place," stated Marie-Eve as she lead Vince inside out of the rain. "Welcome to the Juvenile Delinquent School pour Cuisine. You are to call me Miss Beauclair! I am not on fist-name basis with any of the boys and girls, so neither will you. You will receive 2 cooking outfits, which are merely a chef's hat, and white clothes with an apron. Also you will own one casual outfit, a white jumpsuit, which you will wear in your spare time. And before you ask, no there are no pajamas that we give out, you will sleep in whatever you have in that bag or nothing at all. They are to be cleaned 3 times a week, no exceptions. Breakfast is at 6:30 A.M., Lunch at 11:55 A.M., and supper is at 6:30 P.M. You are to be in bed by 9:00 P.M. If you are late for meals, even 5 seconds you don't get anything!" stated Miss Beauclair. The reached a door, that had Vince's name and one others on it. "This will be your room, your clothes are already there and your timetable is posted on your billboard. Any questions?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Beauclair, are there still Math and English classes in this school?" asked Vince.  
  
"Yes, you will be taking standard classes along with your counseling and cooking classes. Now, is that all? Oh wait, this is your room-mate, Pierre," said Miss Beauclair as he shakes his head indicating that he was all out of questions. Miss Beauclair left the instant Vince shook his head.  
  
Vince turned his attention to Pierre. Pierre like Miss Beauclair had dark brown hair and tanned skin. He looked like he had some Chinese in him as well, by the slant of his eyes. He was beefy, nay fat, just plain fat. He stared at Vince with disgust and contempt. He went into their room, and Vince followed him like a lost puppy dog. The room was small, and ill lit. There were no windows, just peeling wallpaper and a picture of landscape, probably a French vista. There were two, plain cots squished together in the middle. Pierre was hastily pushing them apart.  
  
"You have that bed," grunted Pierre as he pointed to the one to the left.  
  
"So.. what is the place like?" said Vince.  
  
"It's OK! What did you get in for?" asked Pierre curiously.  
  
"A prank backfired, and resulted in murder. You?" said Vince.  
  
"Selling illegal stuff at school. Well, I have to go now! I guess I'll see you in class," stated Pierre in one breath. Before Vince could reply, Pierre left the room, leaving him desolate and lonely.  
  
"Right, see you in class," retorted Vince.  
  
* * *  
  
Vince had wasted time unpacking, and pinching himself hoping it was a dream. This was not visionary but idealistic, reality; everything Vince didn't want it to be. He had hastily thrown on his cooking clothes in his rush. The white clothes made his black skin even darker it seemed. He was just about to go around a corner when he heard Pierre say his name. He stopped to listen, without even thinking about what he was doing.  
  
"So, this new kid is called Vince?" said a skinny girl with an abundance of freckles, and startling red hair, that actually looked orange.  
  
"Yes, his name is Vince LaSalle. Know what else, he's black!" exclaimed Pierre with a suspenseful voice. The girl with red hair gasped along with a lanky, French-looking fellow.  
  
"No, way! Pierre you're lying ain't ya. I've been here for 10 years, this being me las' year. Never, has Miss Beauclair let in them African slaves," retorted a boy (obviously French, again with brown hair and tanned skin) who had his hair looking like a giant greaseball, with all the gel in it. Vince was scowling at them. What was wrong with blacks? They have been equal with whites for a long time.  
  
"What's wrong with blacks?" piped up a girl that till that moment was hidden from Vince's view. She had black hair and fair skin. Her eyes caught Vince's attention. They were large and inquisitive, and they were gray. Gray eyes' were highly unusual, yet they looked beautiful on her face. Vince's heart filled with courage as he looked into those eyes, and stepped out into their sight.  
  
"You're reading my mind, miss! What is wrong with blacks? Your type of people pushed my ancestors and their friend's ancestors around for centuries. And all we did was look different. Just because God made them black, and know what, you people made them pay for being black. You forced them into lowly jobs, or killed them for amusement. I bet there could have been a writer better than Shakespeare if blacks, and women too have been allowed to write," yelled Vince at their red faces. "Now excuse me, I need to go to class, now do I need to use the vent to get into the classroom, since you noble white people hog the only door,"  
  
Vince stormed away from them to class. He didn't care that he was late. The nerve of them, making it sound like it's still the middle ages. He looked back at them. The red-haired girl now had a red face to match her hair. Pierre seemed to very interested with his shoes. The greasy-haired kid was running his hands through his hair non-stop. His hands were full of gel, but he didn't notice. The lanky kid was cracking his knuckles hoping to make a point. The girl with gray eyes was smiling at him. Vince once again felt courage run through his veins. At least, he would have one friend.  
  
He reached the classroom door; he opened it without hesitating. The class seemed to be interested with what the chef was doing. It looked like he was making homemade noodles. All eyes rested upon his as he made his entrance. He hastily sat down in an empty seat near the black.  
  
"Nice of you to join us Mr. ." retorted the chef.  
  
"LaSalle, Vince LaSalle," Vince coolly answered.  
  
"Well LaSalle, Vince LaSalle, I'm Borouche, Chef Borouche," said Chef Borouche as the children stifled their laughter with coughs, sneezes and even farts. One child even pretended to drop his pencil and ducked under the table." Class, class, and no need to get excited. Before you interrupted me LaSalle, Vince Lasalle we were discussing the making of noodles. This is a note-taking class so take out some pen and paper. Tomorrow you will be making you own noodles, you will, like always have a practice run which will only be worth 40% of the assignment. Then you will make another batch that Miss Beauclair will taste. That will be 50% of your mark. The final 10% will be on presentation, your directions, or any thing else creative you think of. Mr. LaSalle, I'm not looking forward to your pasta, since you are missing the first 3 steps! Also I will be seeing you after class Mr. LaSalle. There is no more need for talk, now," stated Chef Borouche as he went on with the directions.  
  
Vince looked like he was ready to scream. He furiously wrote down notes, and resolved that he would make the best pasta. There ought to be at least one book in the school on how to make pasta. A bell sounded in the hall, just as Chef Borouche finished. Vince finished off his sentence and walked up to Chef Borouche.  
  
"Mr. LaSalle, you best learn I don't allow tardiness. And because of this tardiness, I will be excepting a paper on the history of pasta tomorrow on my desk before class starts. It will be marked separately from the cooking part of the assignment. I will be also informing Miss Beauclair of this. That is all, you can leave," stated Chef Borouche as Vince gave him a dirty look and left the room.  
  
After class, Vince entered his room, hoping Mr. Pierre wasn't there. Pierre unfortunately was there, and he quickly left when he saw Vince. Before Vince could enjoy the fact that they were afraid of him, he saw his bed. The bed was soaked in something white, and thick. Vince reluctantly tasted it, it was icing sugar. There was a note on his bed that said 'Get out you African! Your kind is unwanted here. Maybe if you sleep in this icing sugar you'll be white tomorrow.'  
  
"Oh no!" gasped a familiar voice behind him. It was the gray-eyed girl from the hallway earlier.  
  
"No, kidding! Fuck them bastards!" scowled Vince. He had never sworn before openly. Sure a couple of times he accidentally said a bad word under his breath. That was before T.J. came up with the word 'whomps' of course. But 'whomps' wasn't nasty enough, wasn't good enough for this situation.  
  
"Well if it helps, I had nothing to do with it. They ditched me, after they met you personally!" said the girl timidly.  
  
"Sorry, this just isn't my day. I have an essay due tomorrow for being late, Chef Bourouche made fun of me in class. Now this! I don't suppose you know why they did this to me?" asked Vince.  
  
"Well isn't it obvious? You're black, this is France! The 2 things don't go together. But don't give up. Fight back; create pranks ten times better than this. Make them wish they never challenged you!" consoled the gray-eyed girl.  
  
"You're right!" yelled Vince feeling heroic. "I'll also prove to that Chef, that I'm the best thing that ever happened to his class."  
  
"That's the spirit!" supported the gray-eyed girl.  
  
"Who are these people anyway?" wondered Vince aloud.  
  
"Well the greaseball is Frances. The tall, snob is Albert. You know Pierre, the fattest person I ever have known. The girl with red hair is Polly, and I'm Stacey," answered Stacey promptly!  
  
"Well Stacey, is there a library in this school," asked Vince.  
  
"You bet! This school may not have any sports programs, but it has one of the best libraries in the world. It's located in the east wing, come on, I'll show you!" exclaimed Stacey as she showed Vince the way to the library.  
  
"Whoa! No sports! There has to be one basketball, or a racket or something. What about running? That's a sport, and you don't need any equipment for it," asked Vince non-stop.  
  
"Miss Beauclair doesn't like sports, so we don't even have a fun day where we have races. Of course you can always run back and forth in the yard in your spare time, but other that, sorry no sports!" interrupted Stacey.  
  
"Great, just great!" mumbled Vince to himself.  
  
* * *  
  
Vince did finish his essay that night, and had an A on it. Chef Borouche had added a note to the bottom stating that he didn't know that the Greeks thought their pasta was a gift from the gods of Olympus! He also got top marks on his spaghetti, which came as a surprise. Over the years he continued to excel in his classes. He also kept fighting Pierre, Frances, Albert and Polly with the help of Stacey. Frances left one year after their first meeting, so the odds became more in his favor. They changed salt with sugar and the opposite. Caught frogs, snakes and bugs and put them in their beds or bags. One day stood out in Vince's memory though. He was 15 then. His hair had been shaved all off revealing a shiny head. His skin was still black and he had grown to an extraordinary height over his summer. He and Stacey who was 1 year older but still looked the same as the day they had met but matured. They had just finished shoving Polly in a nice, deep mud puddle outside.  
  
"That was the best," Vince managed to say as he was holding his stomach which was sore from the laughter.  
  
"The very best!" agreed Stacey who was also laughing.  
  
They hid behind a tree catching their breaths, and staring up into the endless blue sky. The laughter subsided, and they were breathing normally now, but they still had laud there just staring at the sky. Vince turned over to look at Stacey who flashed him her beautiful smile. All of a sudden she was kissing him, cautiously at first but when Vince replied the kisses became more passionate. This went on all afternoon without them ever speaking a word. They didn't need to say anything. They both had had crushes on the other. Now, they were boyfriend and girlfriend and they didn't even speak one word.  
  
* * *  
  
"Why?" whispered a fair woman as she necked a dark man passionately.  
  
"Unlike you Stace, my sentence isn't over when I turn 18. I still have 12 years to go. And the god damn jail they got me in, doesn't allow visitors," replied the dark man.  
  
"They let you receive letters and presents thought don't they?" asked Stacey.  
  
"Yup, and I get one phone call a month too!" said Vince excitingly.  
  
"Good, but I still can't imagine 12 years without laying eyes on you," cried Stacey.  
  
"It's ok! I'll be on my best behavior the whole time, so they might let me out early," consoled Vince as he hugged her small body. Stacey only came up to his chest.  
  
"Time to go Mr. LaSalle," said Miss Beauclair as she turned him around. "You've been one of the best students I have ever have the pleasure to know! But it is time to truly start repaying your debt to society. Good luck in the real world!"  
  
"I'll never forgot you, Vince LaSalle," yelled a teary Stacey at Vince as he was put into a police car by some rather rude cops. Before Vince could respond the car door closed and his jail life began.  
  
Vince's life in prison was tedious, dank, and just plain boring. The same call, the same cops, the same people, the same everything, except prisoners that shared his cell.  
  
12 long years later Vince stepped out into the sunlight. This was the first time in 20 long years that he was truly free. He savored each breath by the lung-full. The first thing he need to do was find Stacey. Then he would go home, with her at her side. He walked across the street to a phonebook, and starting looking up the last name Beauclair.  
  
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Finally I finished this chapter! Sorry it's not that detailed after his first day, but this is 20 years and it's kind of hard to have those details in one chapter. The other ones will be something like this. Hope you enjoyed this and Merry Christmas, since I finished this on Christmas Eve! You now don't need to sign in to reveiew. But I prefer if you sign in before you review (which would be real nice of you). Merry Christmas one more time! 


	5. Spinelli's Tale of Jail

A/N: Hey, sorry for the wait, but my computer had to get fixed right after Christmas, and it was in the "shop" for 2 weeks or something. I just got it back last Wednesday. But I wrote the Spinelli chapter out in a scribbler, while I was waiting for the computer to get fixed, but for some reason, I didn't type it out till now. Once again, sorry for the wait. I probably say that every chapter. My goal is to get this story done before or on my birthday, which is Feb 18, so let's see shall we. I have midterms coming up though so don't except much that week, because I'll be cramming, I mean studying for my exams. ;-). Thanks to all of those that have reviewed in the past chapters. Goofymonkeychild, no one in the Vince chapter were related, sorry, I might fix up that chapter when I'm done this fic so it makes more sense and flows better.  
  
Disclaimer: Spinelli belongs to the gifted creators of Recess, everything else in this chapter surprisingly belongs to me. I'm also making no profit off this, except the hopeful satisfaction that one day this will be done.  
  
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A small girl lay shivering in her uncomfortable bed with thin sheets that had 29 counterparts in the large, desolate room. Her hair hung in loose stands around her haggard face as she tried to warm her frozen toes. The other 29 girl juvenile delinquents in that ugly room were shivering also with Spinelli. For that is her name, Ashley Spinelli.  
  
She had been committed here when an unfortunate accident back home had resulted in death. She wished that she was back in her own comfortable bed in America, with the knowledge that her parents were in the next room. Meanwhile looking forward to tomorrow's adventures with her five best friends T.J., Gretchen, Mikey, Gus and Vince.  
  
But those days are gone; she was now in a juvenile delinquent jail in Africa of all places. The jail was near Arak, Algeria, but in the desert, the Sahara Desert! Unbearably hot days and frigid nights lead to an unfortunate, cruel existence. The only rooms that were heated or had an air conditioner were Mr. Fikasher's office and his private flat which he shared with his wife Mrs. Fikasher. Also Miss Colga and Mr. McEly owned this blissful privilege in their offices and private quarters. This lead to numerous students purposely getting into trouble so they could get a few minutes of liberation from the intense heat of the day or the frozen nights. Mr. Fikasher was a vain, beefy, black man with graying hair. He was the principal of the school, the jailer of the jail and the owner of the whole ugly, misshapen idea. He often commanded or made everyone call him Your Grace, or Your Majesty, or something else noble sounding. His wife was a thin, shrewd woman who was also black, who had a black heart to match. If she caught one person you said darn, she would lock you in the pit for half an hour. The pit was merely a hole in the ground, which was only 1 meter in depth. It had a tin door on the top that she would shut leaving you there without food or water for as long as she liked. She reportedly likes doing it, because as a child she practically starved to death before Mr. Fikasher found and married her. It gives her pleasure to see the poor kids suffer as she did. Mrs. Fikasher also handled all the educational affairs and teaches all the classes with Mrs. Colga. Mrs. Colga was a great-grandmother at the age of 64, so she has had lots of experience with children. Everyone says that half her children died though. Let's hope it just a silly rumor. Lastly Mr. McEly who is the councilor of the hated jail, who also manages all the non-educational events with Mr. Fikasher. He looked very odd opposed to the other three, with pale skin, twisted with age. All of the girls seemed to fear him, they would run away from him, come back with meetings with him crying and running towards friends or anyone that would listen to their woes. Spinelli had not yet learnt what all of this was about, but she would soon know, from first-hand experience.  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't know how anyone other then them four get any sleep around here, or anything else necessary with this insane weather and all!" remarked Spinelli as she was conversing with some of the girls in her dorm.  
  
At that moment, the elderly Mrs. Colga poked her head through the door. The girls instantly sprang to their individual beds and made it look like they were making their bed or studying during their one free part of their wretched day.  
  
"Hard at work, I see," she retorted as she walked down the middle pointing out miniscule faults to everyone's bed as she passed. "Ashley Spinelli?"  
  
"Right here, m'am!" piped up a small voice near the end.  
  
"I am to take you to your first meeting with Mr. McEly. Follow me please. Would you please stop gawking at her girls like some mindless fish? You've all had meetings with Mr. McEly, there is no need to do that," yelled Mrs. Colga. She had a point though. Everyone had gasped or dropped whatever they may have been carrying then stared at Spinelli with fear mingled with pity.  
  
Mrs. Colga lead Spinelli down to part of edifice she had never witnessed before. While Mrs. Colga was muttering to herself how stupid everyone is, except herself and how those girls needs to be taught manners or something Spinelli took everything she saw in with wonderment. Everything she saw was ten times cleaner than anything up in the dorm. She even swore that she had felt a breeze of cold air brush her skinny legs.  
  
Just as Spinelli was starting to think of plans to get her down here regularly when Mrs. Colga stopped in front of solid oak door with the nameplate 'Mr. McEly: Councilor and Organizer of Non-Educational Events'. "Here's your stop! Well go in, you stupid child, don't just stare at me," raged Mrs. Colga before leaving with a huff.  
  
"Mrs. Colga was that you?" asked Mr. McEly as he opened the door, "Well, well, well! Spinelli finally decides to pay me a visit that was due 3 minutes ago. Oh well, hardly can be your fault can it, most likely that horrid Mrs. Colga's! Well, come in!"  
  
"Thank you," muttered Spinelli as she swept through the door before Mr. McEly.  
  
"Well let's skip to the reason you're here instead of greeting and welcoming each other for one hour. You are here in hopes that I can switch you to the right side. The legal side! Why don't you sit down, and begin by telling me why you killed that boy, Ronald?  
  
"Actually his name is Randall, and well it was an accident we never meant to kill him." She muttered.  
  
"An accident? Really, do you except me believe that? Very well, I'll play along. What forced you to make that horrible accident a reality?" he exclaimed with a grin on his ugly face.  
  
"Well you see, this Randall he was a snitch. He overheard one of my best friends make an embarrassing noise. He then told the whole cafeteria, which started uproar of laughter. It was awful! Do you think it was her fault! I was going to beat up every single one of them, but then T.J, who was really good, when it came to plans. Well he came up with this wonderful plan, and well I'm sure the rest of what happened is in your papers or something," replied Spinelli with some of her old flair back.  
  
"I see, now how did you feel about all of this?" pondered Mr. McEly.  
  
"I felt like it was my fault, and sad, and angry. All mixed up I suppose," she replied.  
  
"I see," as he made notes in a scribbler with her name on it.  
  
These questions went on for hours along with psychological games. Spinelli was starting to droop in her seat, and was frantically looking around for some water or anything else that would heal her thirst. Then Mr. McEly put away his scribbler and stood up and stretched.  
  
"Well that's enough for one day, I reckon!" he remarked and he glanced at the clock. "Hmmm.. just enough time for some fun!"  
  
"Fun, sir?" asked Spinelli,  
  
Mr. McEly just winked at her, which startled Spinelli. Then she jumped and started moving towards the door because of what he started doing next. He promptly took off all of his clothes, until he was only in his underwear. Spinelli started turning the doorknob in fear, but it was locked! She started pounding on the door and screaming as he advanced.  
  
"Don't bother doing that, this room is completely soundproof," grinned Mr. McEly.  
  
"What are you planning to do!" screamed Spinelli at him hotly. She could easily beat this guy up, or at least she hoped she could.  
  
"I'm planning for you touch me and for me to touch you in very naughty places," he stated still with a grin on his face. He ripped off his underwear and started to take off Spinelli's clothes very carefully as Spinelli screamed and thrashed, but it was no use. Not even in Grade 5, and she had got raped!  
  
* * *  
  
2 hours later Spinelli was back into her dorm, she was crashing into everything while trying to hide her tear-stained face. An older girl with long blond hair called Clara jumped up and instantly heaved her to her bed. All of the other girls were now crowding around Spinelli, a red-haired daredevil with sparkling eyes ran off to the kitchen in hopes she could steal a cup of hot cocoa or anything else that was food or liquid that might help Spinelli.  
  
"I just want.." started Spinelli.  
  
"Forget it! We're not going away till they make us or till you're somewhat better," interrupted another blond called Elisa.  
  
"Yea, we've all had to deal with Mr. McEly. If you think you are the only he raped, you are wrong!" said Clara.  
  
"You mean, you've all had to deal with Mr.McEly!" exclaimed Spinelli.  
  
"You betcha, some of us more than once," someone near the back said.  
  
"Yea, Clara here has got pregnant because of him twice. Each time, he smuggled her out and took her to a doctor for abortion," piped up a black girl with big glasses.  
  
"You're not alone, Spinelli," Elisa said as the red-haired daredevil pushed some hot iced tea under her nose.  
  
After many hours of intimate talks, they finally left to their own beds. Spinelli fell asleep with bad visions, but a feeling that she wasn't alone, and that she at least had friends to help her deal with this awful problem!  
  
* * *  
  
19 years, 1 abortion later Spinelli walked out with the shimmering moon in her face. She was finally free of everything, except memories that could never be erased. Spinilli still was a tomboy at heart, with her baggy jeans, and large ski-like boots. That had been the first thing she bought when she had gotten out of the Arak Local Jail. Her Grade 4 pair had been taken from her on her first day at that awful place. Her midnight hair was done up in a high ponytail with a white tee shirt to oppose it. She fingered the plane ticket in her hand. She was never, ever coming back here.  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: Hey, what did you think! Sorry once again that the whole chapter basically only focussed on the one day, but that was the important day, and you can practically guess on what happens after that. If you leave a review (which would be real nice) could you tell me if that rape scene got this story a horrid 'R' in rating. I didn't describe it to vividly, but I think this story still holds to it PG-13, but I'm no rating expert so please help me! Thanks! Oh I just found out that my silly computer is getting fixed again. We can't get Sims working and the sound is really screwy. Darn it all! I'll still be writing the chapters out in a scribbler so I can get you new chapters when we get it back. Sorry for the bad news. 


	6. Gretchen's Scientific Story

A/N: Hey, I finally got my computer back, and I got only a practice math exam for mid-terms, so I'll be hopefully accomplishing a lot this week. To start off, goofymonkeychild OMG, I feel so awful for letting you down, a loyal reviewer of mine. And I thought Spinelli getting raped was an original idea. I knew maybe 1 or 2 more people may have the same thing, because Spinelli is popular along with T.J. when it comes to Recess fan fiction on this site. Once again I'm so sorry to anyone who I let down with my unoriginal story line for Spinelli's jail time. And just to let you know, Spinelli is about the worst as it gets. Gretchen (the gang member that this chapter is focused on) is, in my opinion the luckiest of all 6 with her jail sentence. So, you'll all have a break from my disturbingly, dark chapters. NotAContrivance, yes I know they were punished rather unfairly and that most likely this never would happen in real life, but this story is a little exaggerated, I admit. Hey look at the actual Recess Movie, a guy who hates recess so plans to change the course of the moon in order to get rid of it. Still all lovable though! Oh, the grammar part of my spell check is really weird so sorry if something doesn't make sense. I'll be re-reading it and stuff, but I'm not a grammar expert. Oh I'm supposing that Gretchen was 9 when the whole incident happened.  
  
Disclaimer: Recess doesn't belong to me, nor will it ever belong to me. In this specific chapter everything is mine except Gretchen and maybe some mentions of 3rd Street School.  
  
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"She just won't talk talk to me, Sarah! It's been 4 years and she hasn't changed that much from her first day here. Her educational records state that she was an above average student by far, and yet she acts like a dunce in all my classes. You know how I like to do private one-on-one counseling with our students. Well she will just sit there and stare at me. If you can just let me see why she was taken here, perhaps I can connect with her better," exclaimed an elderly, plump man with a bronzed face at his boss, Sarah Dauntlen who ran the only jail in the world for underage offenders who loved science.  
  
"When I permitted you to do some counseling here, even though you don't have a degree in that area of work, we agreed on one thing. Do you remember what that one thing was Bryan? It was that the only records on your pupils you will receive from us are the educational records that you always had. The students were to confide in you about their innermost problems, why they were sent here, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla! So I'm afraid you will just have to wait until she tells you about - about - ummm," retorted Mrs. Dauntlen before she got stumped on what the right words would be.  
  
"Her life story so far and the feelings and the possible pain within her very soul?" suggested Bryan in a bland fashion.  
  
"Yes, that would work. Why Mr. Weston, I didn't know you had a poetic soul. I suppose there is more to you than meets the eye," said Sarah as she gave him a playful wink.  
  
"D-Did you jus-just f-f-flirt wi-with me?" stammered an alarmed Mr. Weston.  
  
"Oh, Bryan, if one girl gave you a friendly hug you would think it's a marriage proposal and run off to Bangkok. You really need to conquer this silly fear you have of women. There is no need to get frightened of me. I'm married, or maybe you haven't noticed this large, sapphire ring which has been a resident of my finger for 22 years this November," teased Mrs. Dauntlen as she showed off her exquisite ring to Bryan. "I love Tate, my husband, with all of my heart, so an affair is not heard of in our household. Anyway you are 20 years my senior Bryan and one of my closest and dearest friends. And even if I was thinking of betraying all of my wedding vows and Tate, I wouldn't betray him with you. For I would not dare to put our friendship on the line," finished Sarah.  
  
"I know Sarah, but I can't help it. One wink is enough to convince me to move 100 miles away," Bryan exclaimed.  
  
"I know, I know! Do you remember Clara? Ha, kissing you right before your speech which might have given you a raise was a big mistake. It took you five minutes before you could croak out that you had to go home, because your stomach had taken an unpleasant turn," Mrs. Dauntlen continued to laugh until she noticed Byran's embarrassed and angry face. "Oh, I was just foolin'! You know that. Now what was I saying? Oh yes, Bryan Weston you will just have to wait until Gretchen Grundler tells you about her life story and her innermost feelings."  
  
* * *  
  
In an immense, stone room with tall windows and numerous desks, a skinny 13 year old redhead was peering over a surprise math test she had received from her teacher Mr. Weston. Her large, round glasses stole the attention away from her facial features, Bryan noted, as she looked up at the clock. She seemed to be struggling, but yet wrote down answers with controlled coolness. "Perhaps at last, she is being the intelligent girl she is!" Bryan thought excitedly. Mr. Weston couldn't control it any longer, he needed to see her paper which hopefully was somewhat correct. He paced up and down the numerous rows of students till at last he came to Gretchen. His efforts had been fruitless though, her head was blocking most of the answers, but the few answers he had seen were horrific by educational standards. Downhearted, he returned to his massive, oak desk and waited for the bell to ring. As he was sitting a marvelous plan popped into his head. It all depended on Gretchen's pride, if she even had any left.  
  
Gretchen felt proud for doing so horrible on that test. She had felt the familiar urge to write down the correct answers, but like always she conquered it by picturing Randall on the day of his death. No matter what anyone else said, she killed him. It was her concoction that had suffocated him far too well. From that day forward she vowed to hide her intelligence always, and never to invent another device. The world was better off without her anyway! The Ashley's would do more good for the world than she could ever do, and that's saying something. When the bell finally rang she jumped out of her seat awkwardly thanks to her lanky body.  
  
"Gretchen Grundler, can I speak to you please," said that annoying teacher Mr. Weston. The other students giggled viciously as she got called up. She didn't have any friends here like at 3rd Street School.  
  
"Yes, sir?" Gretchen said.  
  
"Gretchen, you know just as well as I do, that you are doing just awful in this course and all of your others," stated Mr. Weston as Gretchen gave him a feeble grin. "No need to smile about it, missy! I have tried almost everything to get my teaching through your thick, empty, dumb head!" he retorted. Gretchen had listened in class and knew most of the courses off by heart. She just didn't show that she knew it all on her tests and assignments, where it counted. "So I'm afraid Miss. Grundler that I have no choice but to assign you to Mr. Rataushk, the janitor. In the mornings you will help him with his duties around the school. You will obey him no matter what."  
  
"So do I have the afternoon off or something?" asked Gretchen. This was bad, but not awful. Mr. Rataushk was nasty and probably only took monthly baths. She would endure it all though, for the worlds sake.  
  
"In the afternoons, Mrs. Mitchell my teaching assistant will give you lessons at the Kindergarten level. Since you don't seem to be grasping Grade 8 material," said Mr. Weston as he smiled evilly.  
  
"Kindergarten! You can't be serious! Kindergarten lessons at my age. I really do know all the material. And that test I just took, I know the answers are all wrong. I can retake it, just to show you that I actually have some rocks in my head. Please Mr. Weston, I would do anything, just don't put me back in Kindergarten," cried Gretchen as she found herself on her knees near his feet begging.  
  
"Stand up, Gretchen. I know perfectly well as do you, that you are a smart child. The Kindergarten threat was just that a threat. I wouldn't dream of putting you in there unless you had truly grown dumb," consoled Mr. Weston. "Now tell me why have been hiding that remarkable mind."  
  
As the sun set, Gretchen was still talking with Mr. Weston who took detailed notes on practically everything she said. When at last she finished, Bryan Weston finally understood and had been going over a speech for her in his head for the last few minutes.  
  
"Gretchen, as much as you are sorry about your mistake that resulted in that poor boys life being forfeited. You have to let it go. Remember it though, ignoring or forgetting it will do no good and learn from that horrific mistake. How do you think the person who invented the gun, or the bomb feel when they see all the blood that has been shed because of their invention. Pretending to be dumb will solve nothing and you know that!" Bryan said as he gave her an encouraging smile.  
  
"You're right! It's time for me to be myself!" exclaimed Gretchen.  
  
"Now you got it!" cheered Mr. Weston.  
  
* * *  
  
Over her years in the underage jail, she progressed amazingly well. After she started trying again her high marks got her on the honor roll in a school full of smart people. She invented many devices during her teen years, like the force field shower curtain,or an instant cure of chickenpox, which is now used worldwide. This one invention of hers was so good that her jail time in the local jail was forfeited by the Prime Minister of Brazil and instead she had to continue researching and inventing in Brazil's name. That invention was a cure to the runny noses of a common cold. She was still trying to figure out how to heal sore throats when Mr. Weston and Mrs. Dauntlen stated that she was free. An old friend of hers from the Brazilian health department even gave her a government, private jet for her long and feared journey home, which had to be returned, unfortunately.  
  
"Well I guess this is it," said Mr. Weston looking at Gretchen. Her womanly curves had overpowered her skinny cadre long ago. Her long red hair was still thin and unbelievably straight, but it looked snappy pulled back in a bun. She had long ago traded in her large, round glasses for more modern, oblong frames.  
  
"I do believe you are flirting with her, Bryan," joked Sarah.  
  
"Sarah, I'm older than her grandparents probably, I'm sorry she is leaving in a more paternal way. Anyway, I'm now married," yelled a red faced Bryan.  
  
"Yea, how did that happen. I heard you couldn't propose to her face so you mailed her the ring. Seriously, I'm surprised she put up with that," teased Sarah.  
  
"Shut up already. And no, I didn't mail the ring to Hillary! I just left the ring in front of her bakers shop with a note explaining it all. Can't I go anywhere with you without you making fun with me," muttered Mr. Weston now boiling.  
  
Gretchen started laughing so hard the two of them stopped fighting and both started to laugh. "Mrs. Dauntlen, you're the only boss I ever knew who joked with their employees. Oh, Mr. Weston, what you must put up with," gasped Gretchen when she wasn't laughing. All three continued to laugh until Gretchen remembered that it was time for her to go home.  
  
"Remember to phone us when you land and good luck," Mr. Weston yelled before Gretchen slammed the plane door. He watched the plane until it was a tiny speck to the north then whispered, "You're going to need all the luck you can get, Miss Grundler."  
  
* * *  
  
How did you like it? I know she really didn't suffer and that she practically got off scot-free for her crimes, but oh well. Please leave a review. Sorry I didn't indent, but if I indent when I upload the chapter, half of my indented paragraphs un-indent themselves. And the next chapter will be about Gus or Mikey. 


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